


the candle store

by almostafantasia



Series: Clexa Week 2017 [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Candle Hoe Lexa, ClexaWeek2017, F/F, Fluff, Prompt - Stuck Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:25:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10038221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almostafantasia/pseuds/almostafantasia
Summary: Abby sends Clarke out running errands in the middle of a goddamn storm that has her trapped inside a store selling nothing but candles. But at least the girl who works there is cute…





	

Of _course_ Abby would have Clarke out running errands on a day when it’s raining torrentially.

When she takes refuge in a candle store, Clarke realises that she probably looks a little bit like she’s decided to go for a swim fully clothed. Her clothes stick to her uncomfortably, drenched almost entirely and dripping onto the wooden floor at the front of the store. She pushes the hood of her waterproof coat down – for all the good it did her being up, as her hair still manages to be completely soaked and plastered to her forehead and the sides of her face.

“Hello, can I help you?”

Clarke looks up unexpectedly at the voice, only to find its owner, a girl of about Clarke’s age with tumbling brunette curls and green eyes that are wide in a genuine query. She suddenly becomes aware of her own appearance, and then in turn embarrassed by it, because the whole _almost-drowned-in-a-storm_ aesthetic that she has going on right now doesn’t match at all with pastel colours and the overly fragrant scents of the candles that line every shelf.

“No thanks,” Clarke replies. “I’m just looking.”

And just looking is exactly what Clarke does for the next ten minutes, slowly making her way down one of the aisles as she peruses the shelves and pretends to know exactly what the difference between the four different apple scented candles are, even when they all smell exactly the same. Because truth be told, Clarke has _no_ idea what her mother is looking for in a candle, whether she even plans to light them or if their only purpose is to give some semblance of having her shit together.

“Can I at least get you a hot drink?”

Clarke startles at the unexpected question, almost dropping the candle that has been held up to her nose for an olfactory inspection.

“What?”

“You’re soaked,” says the store attendant, gesturing down at Clarke’s clothes, which are still leaving a trickle of rainwater behind on the floor wherever she goes. “I could see you shivering from over there. The rain is only getting worse, why don’t you stay here to warm up until the weather lets up?”

Clarke ponders the offer for just a second, her top teeth digging in her lower lip, before she glances out of the wide windows that line the front of the store and look out onto the street. Even just looking at the rain outside is enough to send a shiver down her spine, and the prospect of going back outside any time soon is not an appealing one.

“Sure. A coffee would be good.”

The girl beams at Clarke happily.

“One coffee coming right up.”

As she waits for the girl to return with her drink, Clarke continues to take her time browsing the candles. She momentarily wonders if perhaps she would have been better off not coming to a specialist candle store at all – perhaps if she wasn’t presented with so much choice, the decision would be much easier – but when the ominous sound of thunder rumbles overhead, she realises that she can’t really leave the store and go somewhere else right now, even if she wanted to.

The girl returns with a steaming mug of coffee in one hand and a mug of something that looks like green tea in the other for herself. For the first time, Clarke glances down at the name badge pinned to the front of the girl’s sweater. _Lexa_. Somehow that name seems to really suit a girl who drinks herbal tea and makes a living by selling scented candles.

“Are you sure I can’t help?” Lexa asks, as Clarke accepts the coffee with a grateful mumble of thanks. “You’ve sniffed almost every candle on that shelf, some of them twice. What is it that you’re looking for?”

“Truth be told, I know nothing about candles,” Clarke admits. “My mom sent me here. She’s just moved into a new house with her fiancé and they’re having a “get-together” tonight to show off the new place.”

“A get-together?” Lexa laughs at the way that Clarke uses air-quotes with the hand that isn’t currently curled around the handle of the mug of coffee.

“It’s basically a party,” Clarke elaborates, rolling her eyes in disapproval of her mother’s choice of words. “But she’s in her forties and wants to seem sophisticated so she can’t actually call it a party. Anyway, I’m running errands and she wants some candles so that it seems more homely. To be honest, I’m not even sure that she wants to light them. They’re probably just for show.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place. I know the right candle for any occasion.”

“Okay, so what scent screams “I’m having a mid-life crisis but I don’t want you to know that”?”

“How about…?” Lexa leads Clarke around the end of the aisle and into the next one along, scanning the shelves until she find what she’s looking for. “Spiced Orange? Just a little bit exotic, so it gives off the impression that your mom is still young and cool. But it’s not like _really_ out there, if you know what I mean?”

Clarke raises her eyebrows, impressed with the way that Lexa immediately reads _exactly_ what she’s looking for in the space of mere seconds.

“I … yeah, that’s perfect. Wow, thanks.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” says Lexa. “How many are you looking for?”

“Well one or two candles could just have been gifts,” Clarke answers with a shrug, “but I think my mom wants people to think that she’s the kind of person who actually goes out and buys candles.”

“So multiple candles,” Lexa concludes with a nod. She grins softly, then adds, “My favourite kind of customer. So how about we pick out a few different ones together.”

“Thanks,” Clarke says once more. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Please,” Lexa scoffs. “As if I was going to let you continue to fumble around on your own. No offence, but you would have got the aesthetics of the candles completely wrong.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows in amusement.

“Yeah, ten minutes ago I had no idea that candles even had aesthetics.”

“And that’s why you’re the customer and I’m the one who works here,” Lexa smiles at Clarke, leading her over to the back wall of the shop and a display of candles in every shade of blue imaginable.

Clarke watches as Lexa expertly navigates the shelf, pulling out candles and holding them up next to each other, then replacing them on the shelf, before finally turning to face Clarke once more with a candle in each hand.

“How about these?”

Clarke squints at the candles in Lexa’s hand, reading the names printed onto the labels in a cursive font. _Morning Mist_. _Ocean Breeze_.

“Who comes up with these names?” she asks, laughing softly under her breath.

“I do.”

Clarke sobers immediately, the smile falling off her face as her insides sink and her brain screams for the ability to turn back time just a few seconds so that she can stop the stupid words coming out of her mouth.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“It’s fine. I _know_ that they’re pretentious,” Lexa laughs, green eyes twinkling. “In fact, I like to challenge myself to come up with a name even more pretentious than the last.”

“How about…” Clarke pauses thoughtfully, taking it as a challenge to come up with a name that she hasn’t seen in her perusal of this store, but that would fit right in with the rest of them. “I don’t know, Woodland Walk?”

A smile spreads across Lexa’s face as she walks over to the shelf behind Clarke and plucks a candle off it without even reading the label.

“We have one called Woodland Dew,” she says, holding it up for Clarke to see. Lexa’s eyes are lit up with excitement like a small child in a toy store as she continues, “I love every single one of these candles like they’re my children but this one is my favourite. I used to play in the woods a lot as a kid and this reminds me of that.”

“If that one is your favourite then it would be rude of me not to buy one,” muses Clarke.

Lexa seems thrilled by Clarke’s words, her cheeks practically glowing in delight.

“In fact, I’ll buy _two_ of those ones,” Clarke says, impulsively taking a second candle off the shelf. “One for my mom’s new house and the other for myself.”

“Is there anything else you’d like or will this be it?” Lexa asks politely, nodding down at the five candles they hold between them.

“This will be it.”

Lexa leads Clarke over to the cash register and scans each of the candles in turn, the green numbers on the screen facing Clarke increasing with each beep of the machine. Clarke pays for them quickly and packs them away neatly in the cloth shopping bag hanging from her shoulder.

“It’s still raining outside,” Lexa says, nodding outside through the wide window at the front of the shop once Clarke has finished paying for her candles. “You’re more than welcome to stay for a bit, if you have the time.”

“I…” Clarke hesitates, but then upon seeing the weather outside and realising that there is very little she would rather do less than go outside in the storm, answers, “Well, thank you.”

“Can I get you a refill on your coffee?” Lexa asks.

“I don’t think I finished the first one!” Clarke laughs, retreating back over to where their earlier discussions about candles took place, and picking up her mug from where she abandoned it on one of the shelves, discovering that it is indeed still half full of coffee. She collects Lexa’s mug of tea as well and brings both drinks back to the cash register.

“So, if you’re the one who names the candles, do you…” Clarke shrugs vaguely and then continues, “…well, I’m guessing you’re more than just somebody who works here on weekends.”

“I own the shop,” Lexa answers, her green eyes full of pride. She brings the mug now cradled in her hands up to her lips and takes quick sip before she continues, “I design and name all of the candles myself. I have a couple of employees who help me in the workshop we have upstairs, but this is my place.”

Though impressed, Clarke feels a little bit ashamed about the miserable state of her own life. Lexa can’t be too different in age, maybe only a year or two older than she is, yet one of them is a successful business owner while the other is running errands on behalf of her own mother in an attempt to win brownie points to overshadow the fact that she is barely scraping a living as an artist.

“Wow,” Clarke says. “That’s incredible. I’m an artist myself, so I really appreciate any kind of craftsmanship, but candle-making is something I’m not too familiar with at all. How did you get into that?”

“I guess I just really love candles,” Lexa shrugs, smiling in amusement.

“Enough to open a store?” teases Clarke.

“I majored in business management at college and since I graduated I just moved from one dull office job to the next. Then when I came into a bit of money last year I decided that I needed to pursue something that made me happier and here I am.”

“Here you are,” Clarke nods in agreement.

Lexa leans her elbows on the counter between them, the fingers of both hands still cupped around her mug of tea. With the hint of a curious frown on her face, she tilts her head to the side and asks, “An artist, you say? What kind of art?”

“Whatever pays,” Clarke jokes. “Painting mostly, the occasional bit of charcoal or pastel. I’ve dabbled in sculpture but it’s not really my thing.”

“Have you ever thought about opening a gallery?”

Clarke scoffs slightly under her breath because of course the idea has crossed her mind, but only in fantasies where she’s rich, successful, and dating somebody way out of her league.

“Not all of us can be successful businesswomen,” Clarke says wistfully.

“Business is nothing more than taking calculated risks that end up paying off.”

“Did four years of business school teach you that?” Clarke teases, arching an eyebrow at Lexa.

Lexa rolls her eyes and concedes, “Okay, business is _slightly_ more than that, but that’s how I ended up running this place. I took a risk and it worked out.”

Clarke stares into the murky dregs at the bottom of her coffee mug, and then finishes it off, wincing at the way that the liquid left at the bottom of the mug is much more bitter in taste than the rest of the coffee was.

“I don’t know,” she shrugs half-heartedly. “Maybe if I stumble across several thousand bucks it’s something I can consider but until then I’m just going to have to keep on hoping for a big break.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to push,” Lexa says, reaching across the counter to rest her hand over Clarke’s. “You keep doing you. I’m sure your art is probably incredible.”

“Thank you.”

With the lull in the conversation reminding them both why they are here, both Clarke and Lexa instinctively glance outside once more. It’s Lexa who is the first to comment on the weather.

“It looks like the storm is letting up,” she points out. “It’s hardly raining at all anymore.”

“That’s a shame,” Clarke replies. “I’m enjoying myself.”

Tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and smiling shyly, Lexa says, “Me too.”

“Well, I should…” Clarke says, nodding over towards the door instead of completing her sentence. “Thank you for the help. And for the coffee and conversation. It was really nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Clarke adjusts the bag on her shoulder, now five candles heavier than it was when she arrived at Lexa’s store, so that it sits more comfortably, and then turns to walk towards the exit. She already has one hand on the door when Lexa’s voice calls out after her.

“Wait!”

Clarke turns on the spot, eyebrows raised inquisitively as Lexa walks towards her, hurriedly scribbling something down onto a small piece of paper as she approaches. Lexa’s teeth nibble at her lower lip in anxiety as she extends her hand and offers the paper to Clarke. It turns out to be a business card, the name and address of the shop written in the same typeface as the labels on the candles that surround them, but with the addition of a cell phone number scrawled at the bottom in ballpoint pen.

“This is my number,” she tells Clarke. “For if you ever need any expertise on candles again in the future. Or, you know, if you fancied going out for lunch sometime next week?”

Her voice is hopeful, her question phrased so that Clarke knows that there’s no pressure to say yes, but remembering how helpful Lexa has been to her today, how unapologetically welcoming she has been to a clueless stranger, there’s only really one answer that Clarke can give her.

“That’s would be nice,” she tells Lexa with a smile, adding with a promise of, “I’ll call you.”

The smile that cracks across Lexa’s face, different to the smiles of a shop assistant just trying to be friendly, is one of genuine happiness, and the combination of relief and excitement that crosses Lexa’s features only fills Clarke with a warmth that has the small

“I look forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> as always, you can find me over on tumblr @almostafantasia


End file.
